What If?
by Tori Yuki Ichimura
Summary: What if Heero was high-maintenance? What if Duo was in a cult? I suppose it's funnier if you actually talk to them, but still... Ah, screw it. Just read...or not! ^__^


**Tori: ***grins* I like to call it "being original"

**Kegawa: **…despite the fact that the proper term is "being fricken' retarded".

**…And Monkeys Will Fly Out Of My Ass**

**_The only fic that dares to ask 'What if…?'_**

**Heero is a firm believer in the magical spot on the floor where he can throw his clothes and they disappear, only to return the next day clean and neatly folded. **

**But what if…Heero was high-maintenance?**

            "Duo Maxwell! For the LAST TIME!…FORKS on the left, _knives_ on the right!" Heero Yuy yelled as he re-arranged the utensils on the kitchen table.

            "Sheesh… Lighten UP, Heero…" Wu Fei frowned, discreetly re-organizing the silverware drawer while keeping a careful eye on the pan simmering on the stove.

            "I'm SORRY, Chang. Is it my fault I would like this household to be PRESENTABLE!?" He tisked, sighed, and put his hands on his hips.

            "Presentable for whom…?"

            The Japanese boy snatched a sponge out of the sink and set to work on the countertop where the cutting board had been. "Oh, shut up. I want a home I can be proud of!" he flung over his shoulder as he scrubbed.

            Duet slid artfully around the doorframe into the kitchen, snuck over to the fridge, cracked open the refrigerator door and removed from it a huge two-gallon bottle of orange juice. She was just about to make her clean escape when the Japanese boy whirled on her. "AND YOU!"

            She froze, wide eyed, hugging the precious container of juice to her chest.

            "If you're GOING to make toast at strange hours of the morning, PLEASE empty the crumbs into the trash! The last thing this house needs is ants. Besides, those crumbs could catch FIRE and then we'd having a flaming toaster and THEN what would we do? Hmmm?"

            "…put…it…out?" the braided girl squeaked.

            "With one of my newly washed dish towels, no doubt! Now go! And use a coaster for that!" he added, pointing at the orange juice.

**Duo may not always act like it, but he is a devout Catholic. He goes to mass, receives the Eucharist, and carries a Confirmation name.**

**But what if…Duo was in a cult?**

            "Hey, Quatre… Have you seen my ritual robes?" Duo asked as he fixed his makeup in the foyer mirror.

            "I threw them in the wash with some bleach… I just can't seem to get those darn bloodstains out," the blonde boy replied.

            "QUAT~REEEE! That was a black robe!"

            "Oh! THAT one's yours! It's in the laundry basket on the steps. I guess the white one with the hood is Relena's."

            Duo jumped up the five steps to the landing and rifled through the pile of neatly folded clothes in the basket. Victoriously, he yanked out a long black robe and hurriedly pulled it on over his head. He ran up the rest of the steps and into his room, grabbed the pentagram necklaces off his dresser, a dorky purple backpack off his bed, and ran back down.

            "QUAT~REEEEE!"

            "Yes, Duo?"

            "Do you know where I can find some virgins?" Duo inquired, kneeling down to peer under the coffee table just in case there happened to be any hiding under there.

            Quatre looked down at him. "Check the comic shop."

            "Good idea!" Duo climbed back to his feet, setting his necklaces and chain belt jangling. He shouldered on his backpack and checked himself in the foyer mirror one last time. "Okay, Q! I'm off to the comic shop and then a cult meeting in the Barrens!"

            "Have fun, Duo."

            The braided boy had his hand on the doorknob when the doorbell rang. He opened it. "Er…hello."

            A little girl in a brown uniform covered in patches stood in his way. "Hello! My name's Jamie and I'm selling Girl Scout Cookies!"

            "Never mind! I'm going straight to the meeting!" Duo called back inside, grabbed the little girl's hand and shut the front door behind them.

**Duet and the guys are complete and total otaku. Seeing as they grew up partly in Japan and are a big part of the anime industry itself, there's really no way for them to avoid it.**

**But what if…they didn't like anime?**

            "Tori, are you watching that Japanese crap again?" Trowa frowned and plopped down on the couch across the room. He grabbed the channel changer and switched it to Rocket Power. "Now THIS! This is the good stuff. AMERICAN animation."

            Duo poked his head around the wall and glanced at the television. "Oh SWEET! Are you watching Rocket Power? That is some hardcore punk-ass shit right there! HEY GUYS! ROCKET POWER'S ON! IT'S THE EPISODE WHERE THEY ALL GO TO THAT PLACE AND THAT KID DOES THAT THING!! HURRY UP!"

            Tori attempted to smother the life out of herself with a pillow, but failed miserably and settled for gnawing on the corner.

            In a matter of seconds, all the house's occupants were scattered around the living room, eyes glued to the television.

            "Wow… This is a CLASSIC episode," Heero murmured, completely enraptured.

            "I know… I love how the plot is the same in every episode and nothing carries over to the next show…" Trowa added.

            "_I_ love how they're all eight years old and trying to be Orange County skaters in Hawaii. I mean, _rebel_, guys… _rebel_," Wu Fei said, then caught his breath and grabbed Duo's knee as the short kid did something completely expected and not at all entertaining.

            Oh, and Tori killed herself. The end.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Tori: **Hehehe… Duo abducting a girl scout… So incredibly wrong…

**Radio: ***stars playing 'Complicated' by Avril Lavigne*

**Duo & Wu Fei: **O__O *dive for it*

**Wu Fei: **QUICK! QUICK!

**Duo: ***cranks it all the way up*

**Wu Fei: **Phew!

**Duo: ***pulls his hair band out and puts some of it in front of his face*

**Both: ***start singing along into a remote control and a rolled-up magazine*

**Quatre: **…it's not even worth making a lever remark anymore. They're just plain stupid and there's nothing left to say on the subject.


End file.
